


The Rose

by orphan_account



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9596120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Outside of her own private world, the hall was empty and still. One of the servants had left the windows open and while their animated bodies could not feel the cold, Belle shivered in the billowing curtains and softly streaming moonlight. Taking quick, quiet steps, she moved from the hall to the main atrium of the castle, where the stairs divided between East and West Wing.





	

The days had grown short and cold, harsh wind whistling against the shutters of the decrepit castle, banging them violently onto the frozen brick. Down the empty halls the storms echoed, creating an aura of phenomenal dreariness.

Atmospheric as it was, it was also incredibly boring. When she'd first agreed to exchange her freedom for that of her father's, Belle had thought the experience would be different. Beneath the distraught sadness, a glimmer of eagerness flickered. An enchanted castle! What would it be like? What would she see, learn, experience? The answer, apparently, was not much. Lumiere and Cogsworth had treated her to dinner and a show but nothing much had happened since.

The Beast came to her door on occasion, knocking and shouting, demanding her presence and raging when she declined. Those moments filled her with dread; as much as she proclaimed otherwise, she knew she couldn't _actually_ stay in her room forever. Mrs. Potts brought her tea and finger sandwiches, but she'd been unable to get away to the kitchen again past the first week. She thought she might actually starve at this rate.

Perhaps it was the image of herself wasted to nothing, wretched and miserable against the satin sheets, that drove her out of her bedchambers one early December evening. A few weeks had passed since she'd come to the castle and she'd seen only Mrs. Potts and her teacup child, the bureau, Lumiere, and fussy Cogsworth. The Beast was primarily a mystery to her, aside from his tantrums outside her door, but the memory of him standing tall in the wane light of the dungeon was burned starkly into her mind. She was afraid, yes, but Belle had never been one to allow fear to control her or keep her from living. Life was simply too short for that and she'd never find adventure if she allowed trepidation to still her steps. With only the slightest hesitation, Belle pulled the handle of her door and stepped out.

Outside of her own private world, the hall was empty and still. One of the servants had left the windows open and while their animated bodies could not feel the cold, Belle shivered in the billowing curtains and softly streaming moonlight. Taking quick, quiet steps, she moved from the hall to the main atrium of the castle, where the stairs divided between East and West Wing.

To the right was the kitchen, she knew, and her stomach rumbled involuntarily at the thought, though she pushed it aside for now. Peering down the left corridor, Belle wondered what was down there. It lacked the light and warmth of the kitchen and servant quarters to her right and Belle decided it was better left to daytime exploration. Instead, she set her sights on the wing opposite her own.

The west wing was forbidden; that had been made expressly clear to her on her very first night in the castle. She could only assume that the Beast kept quarters there. What else was he hiding in the dank darkness? Looking up the stairs towards the wing, it seemed abandoned. Nowhere were there signs of life; no candles flickered in the hall, no servants chattered as they worked, no snaps of crisp sheets going down on beds caught her ears. There was just … nothing.

Belle took a step up the stairs. Maybe she was wrong and it was not where the Beast resided. Perhaps he slept outside in the kennels and the west wing was boarded up. Perhaps it was where the Beast's parents had lived, for surely he had to have parents, or maybe it was just the quarters of the aristocrats who'd called this castle home before the Beast came and she'd find their entrails strewn over the floor, mangled and half-eaten corpses of princes and princesses littered over the plush carpet.

Belle took another step, anxious excitement at the possibilities brewing inside of her mind. How horrid it would be to find their bodies and yet … Belle took another step, possessed with the mystery of it all, enchanted by the castle itself. She was drawn up the stairs as if by magic, in a trance, and she seemed to hardly know her actions as she turned the handle and admitted herself into the dusty wing.

It took a moment for her dark eyes to adjust and her nose wrinkled against the smell of age. Belle gasped as she knocked into a table, upsetting it. Teeth on edge, she set it right and looked about. There were no bodies, no people at all, except in the portraits lining the walls. A stately man and his wife and a younger man, perhaps a teenager. A separate portrait of the teenage prince hung but it had been ripped to shreds, clawed by the Beast out of malice or jealousy. With delicate, purposeful touches, Belle prodded the canvas, seeking to restore the painting to some semblance of repair, but it was no use and she eventually gave up. There was nothing else and Belle frowned; it seemed as though the west wing was as boring as the rest of the castle.

Huffing quietly, she turned, intending to leave when a subtle rosy glow caught her eye. From under a heavy door frame came a sliver of light, pale and pink as a newborn babe. A warmth radiated from the light that Belle could feel in her heart, even if her skin remained chilled in the December night. The same magic gripped her, compelling her to the door, compelling her to open it.

This room was in the best condition that she'd seen in the wing, though it was sparse and dusty. An old chate louge sat against the wall, indented from years of use, cushions torn and shredded in places. A dog? The Beast? Belle didn't know but it was difficult to stay focused on anything other than the rounded table in the center of the room. It was obviously a focal point and Belle would have looked anyway, unable to stop her eyes or her hands from drifting towards the source of the glow.

A single rose, fully bloomed, floated from the tabletop, encased in a glass dome. It sparkled and glittered, sprinkles of magic wafting down to the table like pollen. A few petals had fallen and they bathed the cherry wood in their soft pink glow. Taking the dome in her hands, Belle lifted it and sat it aside. The rose was warm; literal heat came from it, warming her hands and pinking her cheeks as she reached towards the flower, aiming to stroke the velvety soft petals …

Faster than lightning, faster than she could even perceive, _he_ was there. The Beast snatched the dome off the table and clapped it over the rose, nearly taking Belle's fingertips off in the process. Gasping, she stepped back, embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she stumbled away, apologies dying on her lips in the wake of the Beast, his massive form, his fury.

“What are you doing here!?” The Beast snarled, throwing his cape back now that the rose was recovered. “Why did you come here!?”

“I-I don't know; I wanted t-to ...” Belle rambled, unsure of what to say. Backstepping, she kept her eyes on the creature before her.

“Do you have any idea what you could have done!?”

“I'm sorry!”

He roared, a mighty, terrifying sound that shook the rafters and rained dust down on her. Belle did not scream; instead, she turned on her heel and ran, away from the Beast, after from the rose, seeking the solace of the only familiar area of the castle. The east wing was outside of the door and across the stairs and she'd go there, slam and lock the door and never come out again for any reason!

She didn't make it that far; the Beast wrapped his massive paw in his skirts and yanked, pulling her down to the floor in an unceremonious pile of petticoats and panic. “Stop!” Belle shouted. “I didn't mean any harm!”

If the Beast heard, he gave no indication. Holding Belle down with one paw, he hunched over her, panting and snarling, pupils narrowed to reptilian slits in his face. Fear plunged through Belle, burning through to her core and she kicked her legs, swung her hands wildly at the monster above her, incognizant of how her skirts slipped up, how the pale creaminess of her thighs were exposed as she thrashed.

The Beast grasped her thigh, digging his claws into the soft flesh until Belle cried out, sliding against the floor as the Beast dragged her closer, hitching her dress up even further so that the blue fabric pooled at her hips. Frantically, Belle pushed at her skirts, trying to cover her exposed undergarments, fear flushing her cheeks and clouding her judgment as she kicked and screeched, knowing that there was no one who could, or would, help her.

Forcefully, he shredded her dress in his claws until it hung in rags around her pale legs. Stark terror filled Belle like a tall glass of ice water when the Beast captured a slim ankle in each paw and wrenched her legs apart. She could feel his hot breath on her thighs and Belle thought she might pass out if her heart beat any harder, or maybe it would just explode out of her chest.

“Please,” she whimpered, twisting her upper body to lay her forehead on the warbled wood flooring. “Please, don't do this …”

He let go with a suddenness that sent pain shooting up Belle's spine from hitting the floor. The Beast heaved his massive form away and turned to the rose. Stroking the dome, he hunched over the table as though cradling a precious child. Belle saw, blearily through her tears, something solemn in his expression and she did not understand it.

“Get out,” he said quietly and Belle did not need to be told twice. On shaking legs, she stood and wobbled out of the room, out of the West Wing, away from the Beast and the rose.


End file.
